


i think you're being a bit ovi-dramatic

by unityManipulator



Series: I don't know what to call it but it's a minecraft roleplay [4]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Egg Laying, M/M, Oviposition, Unsafe Sex, a Little™, again i would like to apologize to the minecraft fandom, and my ovi-loving friends screamed about it a lot, it's a first for these boys bc there's no vore involved in this one, like there's a little bit of murder, so i guess i did okay?, soft murder, solomon makes Bad Decisions (part 3), the eggs go In™ and the eggs come Out™, this is like...the Least Consensual of the fics i've written with these boys, this was my first ovi fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 01:22:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12830319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unityManipulator/pseuds/unityManipulator
Summary: Tynan tries to teach Solomon a lasting lesson about avoiding his brother. With eggs. It's not the most well-thought-out plan.





	i think you're being a bit ovi-dramatic

**Author's Note:**

> this was created almost entirely after a throwaway comment at 1 in the morning that was basically "hey what if ender pearls were actually eggs. bring that in with our trash boys and stuff solomon full of eggs." 
> 
> then i wrote it. and published it. and my ovi-loving friends supported it because they screamed a lot. and the guy i wrote it for also screamed a lot. love u bro. 
> 
> y'all know the rules, call me out but this has to be second, right after the unironic vore fics.

The scream that echoes through Tynan’s mind is sharp and panicked, and it comes with a desperate flash of a location, a compulsion to _go_ , and Tynan is out of the door and running before he realizes what he’s doing. _Solomon_ _,_ his brain supplies, _and Glendon got hurt and you’re all alone now._

He bites back a growl as he teleports, stumbling as he lands and a jolt of pain shoots through his face, but he only gives himself a moment to rest before teleporting again, each jump bringing him desperately closer to where his brother fell.

 _All alone,_ his brain whispered, _and what if he doesn’t come back this time? What if you’ve lost him forever, and you can never get him back? The closest you can do is to kill the one who killed him._

Materializing at the edge of the lake, it takes Tynan a moment to spot the alchemist, and he jumps and _lunges_ and he appears in front of Solomon, swinging his pickaxe frantically.

Solomon dies with a scream trapped in his mouth, and in the briefest moment before he awakens gasping in his bed, Tynan has already warped to his house and broken the door down.

He’s blocking the exit, and Solomon frantically runs to the corner and draws his sword before the memory of the  _last_ time he fought back causes him to drop it. Tynan stands at his full height as he approaches, and Solomon closes his eyes and lifts his arms protectively.

The blow that he’s expecting doesn’t come, and when he opens his eyes, Tynan’s hand is tangled in the front of his tunic, pressing his back against the wall. He’s _terrifying,_ Solomon shudders, too lanky and near-skeletally thin, with his ruined cheeks oozing blood and deep furrows spreading across his skin and showing the inky colors characteristic of the End.

“I’m not going to _fucking_ kill you,” Tynan snarls, and his voice is backed with dissonant screeching as he does. “That’s too temporary, and you obviously never _fucking_ learn your lesson, considering that you keep trying to hurt us.”

He wraps a hand around Solomon’s throat, easily guiding the shorter man to the bed before climbing on top of him, meeting his eyes as he does and savoring Solomon’s instinctive struggles to get away.

Sitting with his hips over Solomon’s, he wrestles with the shirt below him, letting out a frustrated growl before leaning down and ripping at it with his teeth, splitting it messily down the front. His ruined cheeks brush Solomon’s chest as he does, leaving splatters of blood, and he unconsciously snakes his tongue out to roughly lick at the droplets. He makes quick work of their pants next, his cock rutting against Solomon’s stomach as the alchemist struggles.

“If you _fucking_ move, try to run, fuck this up at _all,_  I will _savour_ killing you in the most painful ways that have ever been conceived before the sun rises tomorrow,” Tynan growls, his teeth painfully close to Solomon’s neck. With a bite closer to an actual attempt to injure Solomon than a love bite, Tynan feels the frantic pulse below his tongue quicken yet again. At the same time, he reaches downwards, catching Solomon’s thigh in his hand and wrenching his legs apart so viciously he hears a cry of pain. Good.

When he roughly shoves two fingers into Solomon, another pained whimper escapes from above him. Biting against Solomon’s neck, he brings his thumb up to play with his clit as he works his fingers in and out.

Solomon’s cries and screams become lewder as Tynan works, and Tynan finds himself drooling, pink-tinged saliva falling from the gashes along his cheeks and dripping onto Solomon’s tear-streaked face. It doesn’t take long before Tynan withdraws his fingers, pressing them into Solomon’s mouth as he presses the head of his cock against his hole.

“Relax,” he growls sardonically, “or it’ll hurt a lot more.”

He snaps his hips forwards, burying himself completely in Solomon, and the resulting scream is the loudest yet even around his fingers. His pace is brutal, and he keeps his eyes locked on Solomon’s as he fucks him, the shrieks of the ender curse echoing through their minds as he _hisses_ possessively.

Solomon is frantic below him, writhing and pushing against his chest, and he earns another desperate bite to the shoulder for his troubles. The skin is streaked red when Tynan pulls back, and he can’t tell if the blood is his, Solomon’s, or a mixture of the two.

“Stop _fucking_ moving,” he snarls, and Solomon does, another desperate sob escaping his throat. Tynan grins, an action made infinitely more horrifying by his blood-streaked face and wide, frantic eyes. “That’s right, just stay right there and take your fucking punishment.”

Tynan’s pace slows as he feels something stirring at the base of his cock, and Solomon sighs at that, letting his eyes fall closed. Tynan laughs. “Did you think we were done? Don’t lie to yourself. This is a _lasting_ punishment, remember?”

He groans as his cock distorts, feeling the telltale shape of the first ender pearl (an ender egg, really, but he’d never met anyone who actually knew that fact) as it made its way through the length of his urethra before escaping into Solomon with a wet _pop._

“The fuck is that?” Solomon gasps as he feels another subtle bulge making its way through Tynan’s cock, shuddering as it stretched him open _just_ a bit further every time Tynan moved his hips and slammed into him again.

“ _Lasting punishment,_ ” is the growled response. “I’m going to stuff you full of eggs as a _fucking_ reminder of why you _shouldn’t_ fucking hurt my brother.”

“ _Eggs?_ ” Solomon yelps, instinctively trying to wiggle away. Tynan’s hand finds his throat, giving a harsh squeeze.

“Yes,  _eggs._ This isn’t a fucking anatomy lesson, so just shut the fuck _up_ before you say something you regret.”

Solomon lets his head fall back against the mattress, his body going limp as he fights against the urge to struggle and end up prolonging the experience. Grabbing at the blankets, he whimpers as Tynan fucks him, feeling each new egg slip into him. As every egg fills him a bit more, he feels Tynan’s thrusts getting shallower as the sheer _amount_ of eggs distends his stomach enough to give him a noticeable bump.

When Tynan does come, he lets out a low, raspy hiss, and Solomon whines as he feels cum gush into him and fill every crevice between the eggs, bloating him the tiniest bit more. Tynan pulls back, and Solomon shudders as he feels wetness spill down his thighs and onto the bedsheets below.

The morning sunlight shines through the window, and as Solomon tries to move, he feels the eggs shift uncomfortably within him. He sags against the mattress as Tynan stands, wiping his hands against the bedsheets and grinning at Solomon.

“Maybe that’ll teach you to leave us alone.” His voice is soft and breathy, with no traces of the screech behind it that has been present in his grunts and voice the the entire night. “I’ll give it… a couple days? Plenty of time for the lesson to sink in before they come out.”

“Come out?” Solomon asks hoarsely, his throat raw as he stares vacantly at the ceiling.

Crossing the room to the door, Tynan looks back and purrs. “Obviously they come out. Let me tell you, I can’t wait to see you on your hands and knees, coming around them and begging for help. They get bigger while they’re in there, you know.” With that, the door swings open and Tynan lopes out, not bothering to close it as he leaves.

Groaning as he sits up, Solomon makes his way to the door before slamming it shut and gingerly stumbling back to bed, feeling the eggs shift within him as he does.

  


The first few hours are painful. Every movement presses uncomfortably against Solomon’s overstuffed abdomen, and he spends his time curled up in his bed alternating between trying to get comfortable and lying still and groaning. This continues until the pain fades to a dull ache, and Solomon takes the opportunity to cross the room and grab some food from a chest, slinking back to bed and resolving to try to ignore it.

When boredom hits him again, he stands tentatively.  Aside from the slight pressure that comes from the fullness, Solomon realizes that he feels… relatively normal. He slowly makes his way up the ladder to the second floor of his house, then down again, finding his confidence in moving before strapping on his armor and collecting his belongings. Checking his clock, he notes that it’s past noon, and he resolves to tend his garden instead of anything stressful.

Dandelion, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong when she returns home that night, and the pair have a night of quiet conversation and absent-minded relaxing together.

  


The next few days progress similarly. Solomon wakes early, rolls out of bed, and stretches before making his way outside to do _anything_ to ignore the eggs that had, in fact, grown slightly since they had been laid inside him.

He’s making his way back home, the sun setting over the hills, before he feels a cramp spread up over his abdomen. Stumbling a few feet, he leans against the trunk of a tree, panting and holding his stomach.

The feeling of a hand on his shoulder makes him jump, and he hisses as another cramp hits him. Looking up, he sees a flash of purple skin, and he tries to shift away before collapsing against the tree.

“Fuck you,” he pants as Tynan crouches in front of him, brushing his fingers gently across his stomach. “Fuck you, and fuck off, this is all your fault and-”

He’s cut off when he feels his arm lifted over the other man’s shoulders and a hand on his hip, supporting him gently. The next wave of pain that hits him leaves his head spinning, and he finds himself stumbling along as he’s pulled through the forest to… fucking _great,_  that old oak house. He’s not surprised.

“C’mon,” Tynan mumbles as they cross the threshold, “just to the bed, you can do it-”

Solomon’s knees buckle, and he falls to the floor, barely managing to catch himself as a shiver wracks his body.

“Or we can do it on the floor, that works. Let’s get these off before they start coming out.”  Tynan’s pupils are wide as he reaches for the waistband of Solomon’s pants, but before he can touch it, his hand is swatted away.

“Don’t you _fucking_ touch me,” Solomon snarls with surprising force. “I don’t need your fucking _help_ with this- _fuck._ ” He manages to support himself with one arm while the other wrestles with his pants, shoving them roughly to his knees before collapsing, his chest pressed against the floor and his ass in the air.

Tynan backs off, watching Solomon’s shuddering thighs before he mumbles softly, “it, uh, can help if you touch yourself while they, you know… come out.” He gets a rude gesture shot his way for his suggestion, but as Solomon arches his back and a muffled whine escapes him, he does in fact see a hand make its way between his legs.

Between Solomon’s shivers and the shifting of the eggs inside of him, it’s a miracle he has the coordination to rut against his hand. The first egg stretches him painfully as it slides out, and he gasps desperately when it falls to the ground. The second is easier, barely, but he still groans as it slides out of his pussy, slick with his own wetness.

“You’re doing good, Solomon.” Tynan mutters, shifting closer and watching intently. His own arousal is obvious, and he begins to stroke himself as the third and fourth eggs fall out one after the other, the double exit making Solomon cry out desperately.

“Shut _up,_ shut up, oh my gods-” The fifth egg pushes Solomon over the edge, and he _screams_ as he reflexively rocks his clit into his hand. “I just have to- _fuck-_ just have to focus.”

He loses track of time after that, his moans filling his ears as he pushes out egg after egg. Tynan sits beside him, murmuring gentle encouragement which unfortunately helps more than Solomon cares to admit.

He yelps when a hand presses gently against his stomach, cool fingers probing gently. Tynan’s gentle voice is too close to his ear as he mumbles “should only be a couple more, don’t worry” and presses a soft kiss to his neck.

The last eggs slip out anticlimactically compared to the rest, and Solomon collapses onto the ground as the last few tremors leave his legs rubbery and shaking. Tynan collects the eggs quickly, tucking them away in his pack before grabbing a pillow off the bed and sliding it under Solomon’s head, covering him with the blue blanket and running a hand gently through his hair.

He leaves the old house satisfied and smiling, disposing of the eggs before returning home and collapsing into bed despite the morning sun streaming through the window.

When Solomon wakes, he’s curled up under a blanket, and as he stands and makes his way homeward, the first thought that crosses his mind makes him shiver.

“How was that supposed to _discourage_ anyone?”

**Author's Note:**

> y'all know the drill. osteoclastics.tumblr.com 
> 
> come give me shit, or love me. or both.


End file.
